


Space Daddy

by UnofficiallyOfficial, WoodleNoodle



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author thinks they're funny, Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 13:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnofficiallyOfficial/pseuds/UnofficiallyOfficial, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodleNoodle/pseuds/WoodleNoodle
Summary: America is heartbroken so he gets drunk. Russia is tired, so he also gets drunk.Written by UnofficiallyOfficial, edited by WoodleNoodle.





	Space Daddy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WoodleNoodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodleNoodle/gifts).



> The Author is tired so they write fanfic.

It has been a while since America and England hooked up, and today is an opportunity for such a thing. England is hosting this year’s World Meeting. He hasn’t hosted one in years, it was always Germany or some other first rate country. America was hoping to get some after the meeting, if England would ever respond to his texts.

Their relationship isn’t always the best, and at times can’t even be deemed a relationship. America has issues, and England just can’t deal with him anymore. He loves America, but he has his own issues. He wants, he needs attention and America is just too childish, too distracted to be there for him. He’ll tell him tonight, after the World Meeting.

* * *

The meeting was terrible. Germany droned on about some stupid shit that no cared about. America fell asleep about five times during that report. He just can’t wait for England. England hated the meeting. During the whole thing, America kept staring at him like he was a piece of meat. The younger man really bugged the hell out of him sometimes. And here he is walking towards him with a shameless grin on his face.

“Iggy!” He yelled as he made his way towards the scowling man.

“What do you want, Alfred?” England asked, unpleased by his nickname.

“So, I was thinking we get drunk and get a little busy tonight~” America suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

England had an uncomfortable look on his face. “Alfred, about that…” he took a deep breath and looked America straight in his eyes, “I don’t think we should do that anymore." 

“Huh? Why?” He asked, not knowing where this was going.

“Let’s go our separate ways, Alfred. You and I, we’re... just not meant to work.” England turned around and started to walk away. He stopped and sighed, “Remember the revolution…” 

America was baffled, how dare he bring up the Revolution! Memories of the battles and arguments flashed back to him as England walked away. Like he did all those years ago. America was salty, he waited for tonight and England just walked out on him! How dare he, typical Brits. To drown his heartbreak and sexual frustration, America decided to hit a pub and get drunk off his ass.

Coincidentally, another country was dead tired and in need of a drink. Russia walked into an Irish pub by the name of _The Drunkard’s Mistress,_ where one quite drunk Alfred F. Jones was drowning down his woes and getting dangerously close to alcohol poisoning. Russia ignored the drunkard and went off to get himself a drink, hoping to wash his tiredness away with some good brew. “It’s not vodka, but it shall do for now,” he mused as he drowned his first tankard. 

America has drowned his fifth tankard and the staff members are getting slightly concerned with his fast pace. It has barely been two hours since the man stumbled in, slightly buzzed from an early bar. America sat by himself, wallowing in his woes when a certain Russian entered his view. Ivan settled himself into a booth by the window, enjoying the delicious food and glorious alcohol.

 America is a terrible drunk. He’s the type of drunk that will argue with you over the smallest detail for hours only to forget the moment you two stop talking. When he saw the Russian walk in, he remembered the Cold War. The Cold War started in a simple way, they were both drunk and made a bet. The bet turned into a competition, which turned into a war. He did win the war, but America is drunk. He picked himself up and walked up to confront the poor Russian.

“Ivan Braginsky, you and I have a debt to settle,” America tried to justify himself.

“Stupid American, I have no debt with you.” Russia scoffed. Drunk America is quite amusing, and he is just bored enough to entertain the poor man. England broke it off with the poor lad right outside of the meeting room after all. Everyone heard it, their employers apologized to everyone on their behalf. Russia almost pitied him, America and he were alike in unusual ways.

“October 4th, 1947,” America stated. He’ll never forget the day Russia one-upped him. Not to mention that he’s drunk and heartbroken. America never backed down from a fight. In fact, he’s usually the one picking the fight. Being drunk just spurs him on even more. 

“That was awhile ago, why do you want to talk about it now?” Russia never expected this, he thought it was going to be about the treaty with North Korea or nukes, but the Cold War? This stupid American tends to hold grudges, he knows that. But never did he expect him to bring up something from his soviet past.

“The Cold War is long over, Alfred. No one remembers it now.”

“I can’t believe you would say that! It was one of my proudest accomplishments since my founding.” He was thoroughly offended that Ivan dared claim no one remembers the Cold War. He did! And he counted as someone. America did not want to hear it from a country who wasn’t even a hundred years old.

Russia scoffed, and the banter continued for awhile. At this point both are drunk, America more so than Russia. Russia hailed a cab and threw the drunkard in. He proceeds to close the door when America pulled him in and instructed the driver to go to the nearest hotel. America has forgotten who he was talking to and thought that Russia was a one nighter he picked up at the pub. He pulled him into a kiss and stuck his hands under Russia’s shirt. 

“Stupid American, what are you doing?” Russia grabbed the back of his shirt and tried to pry him off. Alfred is notorious for being a horny drunk and Russia never expected that he’d be the next victim.

“Kissing you?” America answered and continued his assault. Russia gave up trying to pry him off in the cab. And luckily, they pulled up to a hotel. America jumped out and went straight in. Russia paid the cabby and decided to chase after him in case he ends up dying in some alley. America was waiting for him in the lobby with a key in hand. As soon as the American laid eyes on him, he dragged the taller man to their room.

“Alfred wa-” Russia’s protest was cut short as America slammed him against the door of their room.

“Shhh,” America placed a finger on his lips, “I’ll be nice. You can top.” He smirked and open the door to their room. The abruptness made Russia fall back. He can’t believe this man, who said he wanted to have sex with him!? America locked the door behind him and straddled the russian.

“Alfred F. Jones! Do you know who I am?” Russia questioned.

“A one nighter I met at the pub.” America answered nonchalantly. He wondered why he was asking so many questions. All America wants is some European sausage and he’s determined to get it. He reached for the belt buckle when the man’s hand stopped him.

“Alfred, I’m not a one nighter you met at the pub. I’m Ivan Braginsky! Where is your brain!?” Russia is frustrated beyond compare. (Not in that way you perverts)

“Ivan? More like space daddy…” America mumbled. Where did he leave his brain? Probably at that pub with that Russian. Wait, that Russian is here. And his brain is at the pub.

“Space what?” In all his years of existence, this was the first time that he had been called daddy. Russia’s sex life wasn’t the most colorful but certainly was not dull- Prussia could testify. He never thought America out of all people would call him daddy. That man hates him with a passion. 

“Space daddy.” America pushed away the hand and undid Russia’s belt, now fully aware of who he was. Russia has given up on trying to stop him. Besides, space daddy has a nice ring to it.

“You sure you want to do this?” He’s not a lawless person, consent is important. America sighed, this man is worse than Germany when it comes to sex.

“For gods’ sake Ivan! If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have your dick in my hand right now.” He responded. Russia was well equipped, guess what they said was right. Bigger shoe size equals bigger dick. America licked his lips, he can’t wait to get his mouth around that big, fat Russian sausage.  

Russia face had a tinge of red, must this man be so vulgar? “Alfred, I’m not sure if drunk people can give consent. Besides, I was taught not to give a drunk person tea.” America growled and got off him.

“You, bed, now.”

Russia sighed and got on the bed. America stripped off all his clothes and jumped on him.

“I don’t care what you’ve been taught. I’m hungry and there is a nice juicy sausage in front of me.” America grabbed Russia’s cock and gave it a few pumps. He got the reaction he wanted, it went from a flabby sausage to a not so flabby one. He gave it a teasing lick, sending shivers down Russia’s spine. America hummed and took half of it in his mouth, savoring the warmth of it in his mouth.

Russia can’t believe this is happening. A drunkard is giving him a blowjob and he’s enjoying it. America may not be good at many things, but he is confident in his skills when it came to blowjobs. America’s mouth was so warm and wet. His tongue has a mind of his own, Russia can’t help it anymore. He sank his hands into America’s hair and shoved himself deeper. Russia grunted as he continued to fuck America’s face. America enjoyed every moment of it. 

“Alfred, Fuck!” Russia emptied his load down America’s throat. America gave it one last suck before pulling off with a pop. He licked his lips and grinned at the Russian. 

“You shoot off as fast as you launch satellites, space daddy.” He teased. Russia gave him a look and took off his own clothes.

“Got any lube?” Russia asked as he pushed America on to the bed.

“My inner pocket,” America said with a light blush. He wasn’t mentally prepared to take in Russia and all of his glory. Russia fumbled for the jacket in the dim lighting, he was slightly night blind. He found it and popped off the cap. He sat in between America’s legs as he spread some over his fingers.

“Spread your legs.” He commanded. That voice went straight to America’s cock, if it wasn’t fully alert, it was now. America did as he was told and spread his legs, feeling slightly embarrassed that Russia can see it all. Russia debated whether or not if he should ask America to guide his hand, but he decided against it. 

A hand trailed down his inner thigh until it reached his hole. America’s breath hitched as two fingers entered him. Long slender fingers that were usually covered by leather gloves, were _in_ him. Russia pumped his fingers in and out of him, earning little gasps and moans from America. Russia added another and searched for his prostate. Finding it after a few minutes of mindless scissoring.

“Oh, GODS!” America moaned. He can’t take this anymore, he wants that Russian sausage in him and he want it now. 

“Please..”He plead. 

Russia smirked, “Please what?” 

America had a shit eating grin on his face. “Please space daddy, dock your rocket and refill my fuel tank!!”

Russia stifled a laugh, “Does Houston know that you’re letting a Russian refuel you?”

“Shut up and fuck me.” He groaned. Russia shrugged and pushed in. America cried out as he entered, luckily the Russian gave him time to catch his breath. And the pounding started, from pain to pleasure. America was on cloud nine, forgot about everything that happened today and enjoyed the _refueling process_. Russia grunted and spilled his load inside. He grabbed America’s leaking cock and jerked it a few times before America followed him, spilling into Russia’s hands and over his stomach. They both passed out a few minutes later.

* * *

Russia woke up twenty past eleven with a mild hangover. He got up to witness a mess of sheets and his clothes thrown all over the place. Memories of last night rushed back to him and he groaned. The stupid American was nowhere to be found, but there was a note on the night stand.

_I swear to god, if I get an STD, I will find you and cut your dick off!!_

  _~ Alfred F. Jones_

“Stupid American.”


End file.
